


Twine Around Me, Jealous Monster

by Archer973



Series: Build The Castle On Our Passions [4]
Category: Revolution (TV)
Genre: F/M, New Vegas
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-03
Updated: 2019-07-03
Packaged: 2020-06-03 10:58:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,063
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19462570
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Archer973/pseuds/Archer973
Summary: Charlie shouldn't be annoyed as she watches Bass flirt with Duncan. She really, really shouldn't. But she is, and that fact annoys her more than anything.





	Twine Around Me, Jealous Monster

**Author's Note:**

> Are y'all ready for annoyed jealousy, some poor choices, and then some making up? Cuz this one is one I have looked forward to writing for quite a while. Also, I bumped the rating up on this one because there is more hot and heavy.

New Vegas was just as Charlie remembered it, the air thick with smoke and heat, crowds of fighters, whores, and drunks reeking of sweat and tobacco pressing on them from all sides as they fought, whored, and drank. Mostly Charlie hated this town, but there was a certain... freedom to it. Here, no one asked you your name. No one asked you about your past, where you were from, who you were with. Here, you could be anyone, so long as you kept one hand on your knife and one eye on your back.

“Oh you've _gotta_ be kiddin' me!” The whining, drawling voice cut across the din and Charlie felt Bass freeze beside her. Turning, they all looked at the man coming towards them, one Charlie recognized from the brief time she had spent watching Bass fight. She felt more than heard Bass sigh beside her and looked over at him, seeing him resigned as the man advanced on them.

“Jimmie King.” Charlie twitched at the name. She remembered the bookie telling it to her all those months ago when she had first come here, searching for the man beside her. “You've got some big swingin' brass ones comin' back into _my_ casino.”

“Gould, all due respect, I can explain,” Bass told the approaching man, giving him a friendly, easy smile. Charlie could practically _feel_ the charming sincerity oozing out of the man beside her and she wasn't sure whether she wanted to be impressed or throw up. She forgot sometimes how _charming_ Bass could be, how he could flash that easy smile and friendly blue eyes and make any man feel like his best friend. She knew it was an act, but it was a damn good one.

“You were my best fighter,” the horse-faced man in front of them, Gould, complained, his voice just tinging on the edge of whine that made Charlie desperately wish she could punch him in the face. “Lucrative! I had you booked up for weeks.”

“Yeah, well, something important came up,” Bass told him, exasperation starting to creep his voice. Gould huffed, obviously not impressed. Then his eyes slid to Charlie, bypassing her face and moving directly down to her chest. Charlie could feel his slimy, lecherous stare on her skin and raised her eyebrows at the man, warning him that if he didn't move his eyes in about three seconds, he was going to lose them.

“What's more important than me?” Gould asked, finally looking up at Charlie's face, cocky in only the way a man who pays for sex can be.

“Hey. Hey!” Charlie can hear the note of anger in Bass' voice as he snaps Gould's attention back onto himself and she tries not to smirk. She could handle Gould, but it would be... interesting to see Bass break the man's jaw over looking at her. “You seen Duncan?”

“Screw Duncan. You'n me, we've got unfinished business. We've gotta make this right.” Gould cuffed Bass, who had lost all his geniality and moved straight into annoyance, on the shoulder, then turned and walked away, though not before dragging his eyes across Charlie one more time in a propitiatory way that really makes her long to stick her knife somewhere tender, like through his testicles.

“Dick,” Bass muttered, making Charlie snort with amusement. They continued on their way through the casino, Charlie keeping one eye on their surroundings and one eye on Bass' back, until they came to smaller tent guard by a muscled black man with a shotgun. Charlie glanced at him, then around at the others. There was certainly more firepower in this room than any of the others, so Charlie wasn't surprised when Bass said, “Hello, Duncan.”

What did surprise her was who turned around to greet them. The woman was pretty, in a biker chick sort of way. She was about Bass' age, her face surrounded by long, wavy brown hair that complimented her hazel eyes. Her clothing was tight-fitting leather that let Charlie know that she was in excellent shape, but had enough curves that there was no mistaking her for anything but a woman.

“Sebastian.” Her voice immediately set Charlie on edge, low and husky and curling around his name like she had said it a thousand times, and all of them in more... intimate venues then this.

“That's Duncan?” she heard Connor ask from Bass' other side and she felt him sigh.

“And she knows who you really are?” Charlie added, looking at Bass with her eyebrows raised. Bass turned his head so he could look at her, and Charlie couldn't quite read the expression there, but he looked almost... apologetic. Because he hadn't told her Duncan was a woman? Or because... of something else?

“There's not a whole lot I don't know, kid.” Charlie's hackles immediately went up when Duncan spoke, though she didn't show it, keeping her face smooth and emotionless as she looked back at Duncan, who had transferred her gaze back to Bass. “You're plucking them awfully young these days, aren't you?” Charlie raised her eyebrow at woman, trying to ignore the warm spurt of satisfaction the hint of jealousy in Duncan's voice had given her.

“We need to talk,” Bass told Duncan, finally turning his gaze from Charlie back to her. “Five minutes. For old times sake?” The light, warm charm he put into those last few words irked Charlie more than she wanted to admit and she thought she saw Duncan flash her a look before focusing back on Bass.

“Turn around and walk away, while you still can.” The teasing was gone from the warlord's voice, and Charlie knew in that moment that Bass had hurt her, and that she still cared.

“I'm afraid I can't do that,” Bass said, stepping forward and instantaneously every gun in the tent was cocked and aimed on him as Duncan's men moved in. Charlie whipped out her own pistol and, ignoring the hulking men and menacing shotguns, pointed it straight at Duncan's head.

“Alright, alr – Charlie, hold up, dammit!” Charlie didn't move, didn't look away from Duncan, who was looking right back at her, small smile on her face. “Just, relax, alright? It's fine. Charlie, put the gun down.”

Charlie watched Duncan's eyes flick from her to Bass and back to her. The older woman looked at her, leaning forward, daring her. Charlie looked back, the black twist in her chest that had sprung into being when Duncan had purred Bass' name enjoying the sight of the other woman at the end of her gun. _I'm just covering Bass_ , Charlie told herself, but there was more to it than that, and both women knew it.

“Now!” There was a snap of anger in Bass' voice and Charlie had to fight not to roll her eyes. She let Duncan look at the muzzle for a few more seconds, then lowered the gun. The men around them eased back and Bass looked around, giving them that friendly, easy, simpering smile, his hands out at his sides showing that he was harmless, they were all harmless. Charlie wanted to puke.

“Okay,” he said, turning back to Duncan and smiling at her, all little boy charm and softness. “Now, just hear me out.” Duncan sighed, and Charlie knew that this wouldn't be the first time she had caved to those pretty blue eyes.

“I'll talk to you, Bass,” she said, leaning back in a causal way that let her jacket fall open, displaying the curves her shirt hugged. “Not your bitch and her babysitter.”

Bass held up his arm as if to block Charlie's way, though she had done no more than twitch at the insult. She knew what Duncan was doing, knew she was baiting her. And it wasn't going to work. She didn't care if Bass screwed Duncan right in front of her. They were here for business, for mercs. Nothing else mattered.

“Charlie, go back to camp with Connor.” Bass voice was low and Charlie could see him out of the corner of her eye trying to catch her gaze, to make her look at him. But she didn't. She turned around and left without a word, Connor falling in behind her. Duncan watched her go, smug.

Nothing else mattered.

Nothing else mattered.

It didn't matter.

Didn't matter if Bass fucked her.

Didn't matter at all. Charlie didn't care. Let Bass fuck her. Let him fuck all the whores in New Vegas.

Charlie didn't care.

She was vaguely aware that Connor was looking at her, watching her in a way he hadn't before. She wasn't surprised when he said, “You know, I was wrong about you.”

“That so?” she asked, honestly not really caring whether Connor had been wrong about her, right about her, or thought she was three squirrels in a trench coat this whole time.

“All this time I thought you were just some chick.”

“That supposed to be a compliment?” Charlie asked, glancing at him, though from the way he said 'chick', she knew it wasn't.

“I mean the girls back home,” he explained, smiling at her in a way that reminded her almost painfully of Bass. “They're putting beetroot on their lips. They're not pulling guns.” The admiration in his voice made her look at him, really look at him for the first time.

He was cute, she realized. He had gotten his father's height, but his build was slimmer, more willowy, though she bet that under that ridiculous shirt, he was all long muscle. His eyes and face where his mother's, but the hair... that he had gotten from Bass. Those riotous curls. Charlie wondered if his hair was as soft as Bass'. She wondered if his lips tasted the same.

“I'm not like the girls back home, am I?” Charlie asked, and she let her voice drop, looking up at Connor in a way she knew drove guys nuts, all promise and temptation and just a little bit of a challenge. The same way Duncan had looked at Bass. The same way she had looked at him before he had sent Charlie away.

“No,” Connor replied, a slow smile creeping over his lips, lips that looked just like Bass'. “No, you are not.”

He was hooked, just like she knew he would be. She gave him one last smile, then picked up her pace, leading them out of New Vegas and towards where they had stashed their wagon. So what if Bass was screwing Duncan? She would have her own fun.

Because it didn't matter.

Charlie didn't care.

Connor didn't taste like his father. He didn't kiss like him either. Where Bass held, caressed, stroked, Connor was all eagerness and clumsy groping. Charlie tried to lose herself in it, burying her hands in his hair, hair that was the same texture as Bass', but all she could think was that these were the wrong hands, too small, too soft, too cold.

Didn't matter, didn't matter, didn't matter.

She pressed into Connor, forcing herself to focus on the body in front of her. Because that's what he was, a body, convenient for her needs. Connor could have been Jeff from the bar, Adam from the hotel, Cedric from the road... someone else to drown her pain in, someone else to feel against her skin when she was so terribly alone.

_You never forgot who was holding you when it was Bass_.

Didn't matter, didn't matter, she didn't care.

Connor grabbed her ass, pressing her to him, and she could feel the beginning of his arousal. Bass flashed across her mind, nude and glorious, sprawled across the white sheets of the farmhouse bed with all his body on display for her to see.

Obviously here was something else Connor had not inherited from his father.

“What the _fuck_?!”

Bass voice was sharp and furious, cracking across them like a whip. Connor jumped, pulling away from Charlie quickly and turning to face his father. Charlie was slower, torn between satisfaction and a strange guilt that sharpened the edge of her already simmering temper. She turned to face Bass, not even bothering to pull her shirt down from where Connor's eager hands had rucked it up around her ribs. Bass was staring at her, completely ignoring whatever it was Connor was saying to him. Charlie looked back, arrogant.

“Did we get those mercs?” she asked, for all the world as if she hadn't just been making out with his son. Bass' face was blank, but his eyes... his eyes were hot blue embers, burning with emotions Charlie could not name.

“Yeah, we got them,” he replied, and he sounded almost tired. “Now we just have to pay for them.”

Pay for them. The heist. Charlie had never been a thief, and she hadn't been overly thrilled about the plan in the beginning, but after meeting Gould, with his roaming eyes and lecherous smiles... yeah, she wasn't above a little highway robbery.

“I need you go get some supplies,” Bass said abruptly, turning and facing Connor. “Here's a list, and some diamonds.” Bass shoved the items into Connor's hands. Connor took them, opening his mouth to protest. Then he looked from Bass to Charlie and back again. Closing his mouth, he nodded and turned without a word back towards New Vegas.

Charlie turned away before Bass could look back at her. She moved towards the wagon, intending to grab her pack out of the back. But strong hands grabbed her by the shoulders and whirled her around. She had expected this, almost, and wasn't surprised when Bass slammed her into the side of the wagon, his taller form towering over her as he pinned her in place.

“What the hell were you doing, kissing my son?” His voice was low, but the hot anger was more evident then if he had bellowed from a mountaintop.

“Jealous, Monroe?” Charlie asked, tilting her head back so that she could look up at him, could meet his burning, seething blue eyes. “Jealous that while you were _screwing_ Duncan, I was attempting to do the same with your son?”

She should have been afraid, with his anger pressing so close her, but instead she was almost... eager. The heat inside her, the heat that had been building and building since that day he had come back for her in that school, the day _she_ had kissed _him_... it needed an outlet. And if he did not want her kisses, then he could have her rage.

Bass tilted his head and for a moment all there was on his face was confusion. Then her words seemed to sink in and his eyes widened. He looked at her and Charlie saw the anger bleed away, replaced by... wanting. Desire. A need so strong it made Charlie's breath catch in her chest.

“I didn't screw Duncan,” Bass told her quietly, then his hands were on her jaw and his lips were pressed against hers, hot and rough and perfect. Charlie responded with teeth and tongue, her anger still seething close to the surface. She believed he hadn't screwed Duncan, but the jealousy... in a way the jealousy she felt made her more angry than if he had actually slept with the warlord. He was Sebastian Monroe, an unpredictable killer that was one day going to betray her. She shouldn't care who he fucked.

But she did.

Burying one hand in his hair, Charlie kissed Bass with all the fury singing in her blood. She nipped at his lips and swept her tongue across the abused flesh she left behind. Her free hand dug into the muscles of his shoulder in what had to be a painful grip, but Bass just growled, kicking her legs apart and shoving himself between them. Charlie gasped as he ground against her, the feel of his arousal, hard and straining against the denim containing it, sending waves of heat up her spine.

Bass' hand moved from her jaw to her waist, shoving under her thin top and splaying across the soft skin in a hot, possessive gesture that made her heart jump and her hips grind down against him. She could feel his callouses, roughness stemming from years of living by his sword. The drag of them across her skin as he shoved his hand higher made her moan into his mouth, pressing her whole body into his. _These_ were the hands that were supposed to be on her, the hands of the killer who had carried her out of that bar, who had held her so tenderly when he told her to not think about what his kiss meant, who came back to die beside her against the Patriots. There were so many reasons that they should not be doing this, but in this moment, Charlie didn't fucking care.

Bass twisted his hips, rubbing against her opening even through the layers of jeans, and at the same time his hand closed over her naked breast. Charlie felt her spine turn to liquid and she was grateful that Bass was pressed so close against her or else she would have fallen. The _wanting_ in her chest made it hard to breathe and she could do nothing except arch into him, wishing desperately that his hot, heavy hand on her breast was not the only bare skin she could feel.

Bass pulled back and looked down at Charlie with eyes eclipsed by black. He rubbed against her again, thumb brushing over her nipple in a way that made her gasp. His face was half covered in shadows, giving him an almost sinister look, some shadow creature stepped out of the night to devour her. He leaned forward, midnight eyes boring into hers.

“If you're going to fuck a Monroe, Charlotte, don't be a coward. Fuck the one you actually want.”

Then he was gone, turning and striding off into the night. Charlie had to catch herself on the wagon or else she would have fallen, her knees turned weak by their passion. Her heart was pounding in her chest and her skin cried out for his hot, coarse hands. Letting her head fall back, Charlie looked up at the stars, trying to remember how to breathe without his lips on hers.

_Fuck the one you actually want_.

Asshole. He was going to pay for this.

**Author's Note:**

> I did diverge from cannon in this one due to the fact I really didn't want to deal with the fallout of Charlie actually sleeping with Connor, so I hope y'all liked the way I handled it. I would love to hear your guys' thoughts! Next is going to be part two of New Vegas, which will include Charlie saving Bass from the dogfight and Bass' reaction to her taking command of the mercs (spoilers, it's a little different than the show)


End file.
